


So I Guess You Could Say..

by TheBlackMagister



Category: Escape the Fate
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Smut, Floor Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Santa Outfit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:05:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5528828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackMagister/pseuds/TheBlackMagister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max is really looking forward to one particular gift this Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So I Guess You Could Say..

**Author's Note:**

> it critmass  
> merr critmass

Craig's just setting out gifts to Leila.

He's well aware they're approaching the end of the years when she believes in Santa. It kind of breaks his heart. So - he's more determined than ever to make it magical while he still can. She deserves that, at least.

He's still putting the final two under the tree when a weight falls on his back. For a moment he's startled, too much so to even cry out. Then tattooed bassist's fingers move to the button on his jeans, popping it open, ringed pouty lips pressing lazy kisses to his neck. He sighs in relief.

"Merry Christmas," Max breathes, as if if he were to speak too loud Craig might disappear. Craig's eyes close at the callused hand that wraps around his dick in his underwear, stroking the length gently. His jeans fall around his knees, the waistband of his boxer-briefs snapping down around his thighs. 

"Back up," He mutters, "Or I'm gonna cum all over the presents." 

Max mumbles something about it being funny; regardless the bassist shifts backwards, dragging Craig's hips with him. Craig groans softly at the friction of Max's still-clothed cock against his ass, glancing over his shoulder at the older's hazy green eyes. And then,

"What are you _wearing_?" Craig asks in disbelief. Max smirks, undoing his belt and letting the pants drop. 

"I'm Santa," He announces, quietly - because he knows if Leila hears Craig will actually kill him. Craig holds in a snort of amusement. 

"Well, Santa," He murmurs, sitting up on his knees, "Let's just see what you brought me for Christmas this year."

Max licks his lips, arms wrapping around his waist, dragging his body impossibly closer before lining up with his ass and driving home. Craig's hips jerk and the singer hisses sharply at the sudden full sensation. Max kisses his neck and the connect of his jaw as an apology, rubbing his cock gently. After a moment Craig relaxes, eyes closing; despite still breathing hard through his nose. 

"Move," Craig mutters, "We don't have long. Just fuck me."

"I'll be gentle," Max promises, pulling back a little and thrusting back in. Craig's head falls back against Max's shoulder, a heavy sigh of pleasure making his chest heave. Max sets a steady rhythm, slow and easy, thumbing the Prince Albert on the head of Craig's dick. Craig makes a little sound in the back of his throat. 

"More," He mumbles, "Please."

"Your wish is my command," Max teases back lightly, picking up the pace. He's a little faster, thrusting a little harder. Craig's back arches. They're not technically together, but it's not necessarily that they haven't had sex before - it's just that, well, Max is good. Max nibbles gently on the soft spot of his neck, leaving a hickey for the world to see, and Craig half-whimpers, rocking back into his best friend's thrusts. 

"Does it feel good?" Max prompts, lovingly nosing the singer's jaw, kissing just behind his ear. Craig nods, pressing against Max's touch. Max speeds up again - faster, harder, more at a time. Craig almost goes weak, leaning into Max's chest and whining needily. Max purrs softly, leaving little kisses and love bites on Craig's pale skin. 

"Ma-ax - oh-" Craig's voice hitches as Max hits his sweet spot. The bassist smirks against Craig's shoulder, angling his thrusts to hit the spot with each inward stroke. It's heaven. 

"Such a good boy," Max croons. "So good for me, Craig."

Craig arches, lips parting silently, as Max rams at full force into his prostate. Max chuckles lowly, dragging his hips closer, the tips of callused fingers bruising his skin. He's so easy to manipulate; Max loves it. Then Craig just fucking melts, and Max takes advantage of it, pushing his face against the floor and fucking him inside out. He squirms, panting and whimpering Max's name; pretty sure he's about to explode right there on the floor. Max grunts softly.

"Loosen up, Craig," The bassist mutters, "Or I'm gonna blow myload already."

"'m not gonna last much longer anyway," Craig keens, fingers scrabbling desperately for a handhold on the hard wooden floor. "Fu-fuuuck, Max-"

Max groans Craig's name softly, one hand twisting in the younger's dark locks, pulling; and drawing a strangled moan from the boy beneath him. The other flicks over Craig's cock - once, twice, and Craig's finished, arching into Max's chest and cumming white hot onto the floor. Max thrusts a couple more times before hitting his own orgasm, spilling deep inside Craig's ass unashamedly. For a moment they're both immobilized, save for Craig's uncontrollable shivering. Then, finally, Max pulls out and slumps to the floor, panting. Craig shakily crawls up against him, eyes closing. 

"So," Max murmurs, playing with the ends of Craig's sweat-dampened hair. "I have to ask for one more gift from you."

"And what's that?"

"Be my boyfriend." It's so blunt and so very Max-like that for a moment Craig is taken aback. Then, a blush beginning to spread across his cheeks, he nods shyly. Max exhales slowly. 

"Guess we should head to bed," He says softly. Craig nods again, sitting up. Max stands first and, with a little difficulty, helps Craig up as well. They take a pause to pull up pants, Craig wincing a bit, before going upstairs. On their way down the hall Max glances back at Craig, the beginnings of a grin unfurling on the bassist's face. Craig raises an eyebrow. 

"What?"

"So.." Max's grin widens, "I guess you could say-"

"Don't," Craig groans, one hand covering his face. "Don't say it, Max."

"I wouldn't be Max if I didn't," Max stifles a laugh. "So I guess you could say Santa really came tonight, huh?"

"Oh my God," Craig mutters, peeking at Max through his fingers. "Why did I say yes again?"

"Because you love me."

"Ugh, but why?"

Max seems - a little hurt. "I dunno," The bassist shrugs, "I'm not making you."

"Max, that wasn't what I-" Max is moving down the hall. Fuck. Craig reaches out, grabbing the older's forearm. "Max, wait. You know I was kidding, right?"

"Huh?" Max turns, although Craig can see him repressing hurt. Goddamnit. Craig foregoes holding his arm and instead moves forward to wrap both arms around his neck. 

"I didn't mean it like that, Max," Craig mumbles against his jaw. "I was kidding. I'm sorry. I do love you. You're smart and funny and cocky and you're the best friend anyone could ask for. I'm sure you'll be a great boyfriend. And a great dad."

"Craig," Max sighs softly, leaning back. "You didn't think I was mad for real, did you? Baby.. I love you so much."

Craig bites his lip, stepping back. Max holds on to his waist, though, and at a confused glance nods upwards. Craig follows his gaze. Mistletoe. Max leans their foreheads together, thumbs stroking Craig's cheeks and jaw. This is nice. Just him and Max, breathing the same air, sharing the same space. Gently Max kisses him; he's never felt a spark like it. He slips his arms back around Max's neck, eyes closing, wishing they could stand like that all night. 

=====

They're awoken in the morning, not by an alarm clock, but by the next best thing on Christmas morning: a little girl. 

"Daddy! Max!" She shouts, shaking the entire bed so that Craig starts to feel seasick. "It's Christmas!"

"So it is," Craig mumbles, without removing his face from Max's chest. Max yawns, one arm stretching leisurely, the other trapped down around Craig's body. Max smiles, genuinely smiles, at Leila. 

"Go wait at the stairs," He chuckles. "We'll be out in a moment. We just gotta get Caige."

She nods and takes off again. Craig yawns, finally sitting up. He's clad only in his boxers, so he pulls on a bathrobe while Max lifts Caige out of the crib. He takes his son from Max, letting the bassist kiss him, although he pulls away a little at the coldness of Max's lip rings. Max just grins. Dick. 

Finally deeming them ready Craig leads the way out. Leila's standing impatiently on the top stair, pouting. Craig laughs softly at her expression. It's so reminiscent of himself - she's definitely his, alright. She hovers around him while he takes the stairs down, and he decides now is a good a time as any to pose the question. 

"So, how would you feel about Max being your second dad?" He asks casually. Max nearly falls down the stairs after missing one; too surprised at the question to pay attention. She laughs. 

"Good." She beams at him and he grins back. He waggles his eyebrows at Max over his shoulder; his boyfriend is flushed bright pink, green eyes shining with embarrassment. At the bottom of the stairs Leila gasps, zipping over to the tree.

"Look!" She blurts excitedly. "Santa came!" 

Max chuckles. "He sure did, Lei," He says casually, nonchalantly squeezing Craig's ass on his way by to help the little girl sort through presents; Craig inhales sharply, glaring as Max smirks back at him. "He sure did."


End file.
